


Gamemaker's Wrinkle

by ThirteenthHourAtMycroftsMindPalace



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Forgive Me, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I don't think I have enough tags, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love it plz., Me throwing my oc Roarrickk into hunger games because she is a wild card and he deserves more love, My general love of Plutarch Heavensbee, Oc usage, On Wattpad, Originally Posted Elsewhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirteenthHourAtMycroftsMindPalace/pseuds/ThirteenthHourAtMycroftsMindPalace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fluffy bits in the Heavensbee life. Warning has O.C.s. Don't like, Read anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Roarrickk is 18 when she enters the games. She looks like Vanessa Hudgens(idk why). I own only the O.C.s in my story, everything else is the property of Suzanne Collins. Enjoy.

         She won. The girl from District 10 had won the 69th annual hunger games. She was covered in dust and blood, clutching a thin line of steel wire in her hands. It was the same wire she had used to kill four careers and an alligatorish sand diver beast. The game's theme was a desert complete with sand dunes that turned into poison sand storms and disgusting biting insects that make you hallucinate faster than the sun. She looked up to the sky as the final Canon fired and let out a brilliant smile. "Come on! I won! Let me out so I can get a glass of water and a shower. You have no idea how itchy all this dust is."

  
        He had never seen a Victor less likely to win and more confident in themselves in his life. Plutarch saw behind the smile and the joking tone, and what he saw impressed him. She was not ashamed to have won or to have killed seven people to do so. He saw a survivor playing the game.

  
       The first moment he saw the real Roarrickk Cassik was later, in her victor's interview as she spoke to Caesar about the games. She said, "It isn't the act of killing that breaks people, but the act of letting the games take away your humanity." He saw the same cunning girl smiling at the camera as he did when she was systematically beating careers from under the sand. He saw a survivor winning the game.

  
        The first moment her liked her was a year later at the tribute center, as she told her tributes what they needed to hear even if it made them cry. She didn't sugar coat it or be intentionally cruel, she told them the blunt truth and then gave them some survival tips to make them last longer in the games. Her tributes out lasted 18 others before dying together in the flood.

  
        The first time he wanted her to notice him was two years after her games as she attended the pre game party, dressed simple but handsomely in a steel coloured suit that clung to her in all the right places. She was talking and floating around the room like a social butterfly speaking to all the tributes and all the victors present, even if it was for only a brief hello. She even managed to speak to a few capital higher ups, but it was as if she was intentionally ignoring the area where he stood speaking to another Gamemaker. He thought he was being ridiculous at first until she saw her walk right by him, skin tight suit glistening in the colourful party lights, to hug the stylist behind him. It was like he didn't even get acknowledged in a passing glance like every other person did, and for some unknown reason he wanted at least that.

  
         The first time he respected her was the day she sent a tribute a package. It was the 71 games and she sent a package to Johanna Mason in the form of gum with a note attached. That was right before Johanna picked up an axe and got to business picking off other tributes. If you asked Johanna what the note said she'll tell you it wished her luck. He found out later it said "Nice strategy! See you in the Victor's Circle." Johanna wasn't even her tribute ,yet she risked her life and reputation on her, and that was something to respect.

  
          He realized he wanted her when she was escorted by fellow Victor, Gloss, to the Pre-game party . She was an array of simple beauty, missing the extravagance that all the other guests wore, standing out with the crowd of over fluffed peacocks, even more so when you saw the muscular District 1 Victor wrapped around her like a drape. It didn't seem right for her to be with someone as dense as him, when she was so genius, or for him to be wrapped around her masking her beauty with his chiseled gruffness . She deserved someone who would worship her like the queen she was, not a man who loved his muscles more than her. She deserved a servant who recognized her brilliance. She deserved to be wanted by everyone the way he wants her. He didn't realize until he was changing for bed that he admitted, abet in his head, that he wanted her, body and mind.

  
          It wasn't until a week later he actually spoke to her. The game's were over, another Victor crowned, and she was sitting outside a Capital cafe, sipping coffee and enjoying a light cake like sweet. He wasn't nervous about talking to her because it seemed so natural for them to meet. He stopped and commented on her choice of sweet and the conversation evolved from there. It managed to escalate to trading contact information and promises of future meetings.

  
          They had kept contact after she went back to 10's Victor Village and soon he considered her a good friend and likewise for her. It wasn't until the words "I love you , bye" came out of his mouth and he hung up that he realized it was true. Somehow he knew she didn't hate him for it and when she came to visit the capital their outings became dates and hugs became kisses.

  
           Kisses, the first time he kissed her was under the awnings at the Capital train station. She ran off the train into his waiting arms and planted one one him as the light drizzle of rain became a full on downpour. It was soft, wet and a bit clumsy but still the most perfect thing he had ever felt.

  
           The first time she pulled him into bed was heavenly. He was no virgin and he'd bet she wasn't either but it was so different from what he had expected from her. He expected rough kisses and clawing at his back, but what he got was soft specks to his lips, jaw, and throat and breathless sighs. She didn't urge him or order him around like he thought she would, but rather gave him the lead and let him go at his chosen pace. It wasn't the urgent fucking that he expected to take place. It was slow rhythmic love making, and he was addicted to every soft shutter and gasped word.

  
          He woke up next to her after the first time they had made love and it hit him like a gust of wind, that he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. Something about the way her dark hair fanned out across his pillow or the way her breathing was soft as her skin as she slept, made him feel as if He would never sleep properly again without her beside him.

  
         The first time he saw her cry was not because she was scared, hurt, or sad, but because she was so happy. He pulled out the ring box and dropped to one knee, in the garden at the 73 game's pre game gala, and allowed every ounce of love he had fall into one simple question. "Roarrickk Dalphiné Cassik, I know you could have anyone else you desire and deserve everything I can give you and more, but I would strive to be more than I am if you would please do me the honor of marrying me. Please Marry me ?" She looked at him so happily before tears welled up in her dark earth colored eyes and began their path down her olive cheeks. He almost cried when she said yes and squeezed the air out of his lungs. It surprised him that a goddess such as she would want to be married to him, but less than the fact that she cried not for falling tributes or due to injury, but because she was so happy to be with him.

  
          The first time he saw everything in her eyes was as she said 'I do'. He saw a house in a new Panam. He saw freedom and equality. He saw progress and it was all in the swirls of chocolate in her irises.

  
         The only time he lost her was after the 75th game's arena was shattered. He couldn't get her out of the Capital fast enough and she was captured. He didn't break like Katniss and Finnick. He didn't cry when he thought of all the things they were doing to her. He made moves and counter moves, and no one was the wiser to the fact that everytime Peeta showed signs of torment, he saw the same happening to his darling wife, or that when the bombs hit district 13 he flinched, not out of fear for himself but fear of the pain his next move would cause her.

  
         The first time her cried over her was the day the Victors were rescued. He wept because he missed her. He wept because she was there. He wept because they hurt her. He wept, and wept, and wept, until she wiped his tears away with thin scarred fingers, and kissed his still damp cheeks. Then there was no more reason to cry, only a reason to kiss her and hold her until he was certain she was real and the war hadn't made him go mad.

  
         She hated him only once. It wasn't when she was captured by the Capital or when she went through 65 hours of labor or even when he spent more time working in the new Panam than with his family, no she hated him for all of ten seconds when he looked at her after 35 years of marriage, two perfect kids, seven games, and a revolution and whispered, "How'd I get so lucky as to marry you? When I'm gone you will have nothing because you wasted your life on me." She hated that he lied to himself. Hated that he didn't see every strategic step she took to get him to see her. From the joking in the arena to the Idiot of a party date she draped all over herself to make him jealous. But even as the hate welled up for those 10 measly seconds, she smiled and kissed his creased brow and whispered back " To love you is one of my greatest victories."


	2. We Gotta Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roarrickk finds something out and Plutarch is a snarky git.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOMB DROPPINGS YO!!!!! Maybe Hella OOC Heavensbee.

       She shifted angrily from one foot to the other as her wait continued. Plutarch was taking forever in the stupid rebel meeting and she really needed to talk to him. She had just about given up hope when the doors opened and people started filing out of the war room. He exited last with a pale haired women with a permanent scowl.

      "Plutarch we need to talk. NOW." Roarrickk kept her voice even despite her rising temper at seeing him walking almost hand in hand with the drab woman. Said women looked at her like she had grown a few more heads and was preaching the Capital's Bible.

      "Mr. Heavensbee, who is this woman?" Dull , God everything about her is dull from her hair to her voice. She looked expectantly to Plutarch, foot tapping idly.

      "That, Madame President, is my wife Roarrickk, the winner of the 66th annual Hunger Games, who is supposed to be in our room, but isn't for some reason." He shoots Roarrickk a bit of a glare and is met with a tight lipped frown. "What is it you need, HONEY ?"

       Her frown became more strained as she looked at him silently. "Roarrickk, darling, if it isn't anything to important, we really do have things to do, you know how to get to our room -"

      "Shut it , Heavensbee." He quickly closed his mouth in an amused smirk. "We need to talk."

      "We are taking so if it isn't important enough to say now it can wait." He motioned to get on with whatever she had to say.

      "I mean in private." Her voice took on the raspy tone of restrained anger.

      "Whatever for? I'm sure it won't hurt if President Coin hears what you have to say."

      "It's none of her business."

      "If it involves my district, it's my business." Coin was apparently waiting for Roarrickk to spit whatever she needed to talk about out.

      "It's has nothing to do with your district." The words were almost serpentine in how they were hissed.

      "Just tell me , I don't have all day, Roarrickk." He looked so cocky and proud that he was flustering her. She puffed out her chest and deepened her glare.

      "Fine! Plutarch I'm pregnant." She almost cheered when he went white and the President excused herself.

      "Are you sure?" He met her eyes but she couldn't read him.

      "Duh. District 13 docs checked me out this morning. Two months along by their estimates." She was preparing for him to lash out at her for carelessness or cuss her for embarrassing him in front of the President, but smiled when she remembered who she married.

      "You're Pregnant. You're going to have a baby. We are going to have a baby. I'm going to be a father." She smiled even more as he grew ecstatic. "Roarrickk, I'm going to be a father!" She mumbled about stupid men and their emotions, before he swooped her into his arms. "And you, you are going to be the most wonderful mother." She kissed him softly on the corner of the mouth. Sometimes it amazed her that this was the same man who believed that war was like a chess game and she married him despite his annoying tendency to overlook the simple solutions and rush into dangerous strategies.

      "The question is , will you be able to make our baby a symbol of hope for the rebellion?" His smirk was answer enough. God, she loved her brilliant idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome and may the odds be ever in their favor.


	3. Most Important Job: Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute little bit about how Plutarch feels because of his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this cute bit for my MeMe.(Yes my Grandmother reads some of my fanfiction.) Enjoy it :-) !

      Her smile was like the sun after rain. She lit up his day. They named her after a flower that no longer grew, and she was as beautiful as her namesake. When he had met Roarrickk there was no evidence that she would give him this, perfection in the form of a 35 pound three year old girl with golden brown curls and eyes bluer than the sky's reflection in a lake.

    The war was over , and she made it seem like ancient history, but he remembers a time before her where he didn't know the joy a child could bring. He was so cynical then. Roarrickk would try to get him to join in the Capital entertainment or some kind of calming hobby, because he focused too much on the government. Now it is a fight to get him out of bed, or to have him leave his favorite person in the world for politics.

     Fatherhood has changed him. He no longer worries about Panam managing, or how the world sees him. He worries that Hyacinth will be too much like her mother and how she sees him. When he asks her she always summons up a smile that blinds the sun and says "Daddy, I see you every day, we live together, that's how." And he realizes how lucky he is that that is true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are approved by the Rebellion as proof that our hard work is paying off. Please support our cause.


	4. follow me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I wrote this, but I did. Enjoy.

Roarrickk felt the tears burn paths down her cheeks. She knew she was crying. She knew that normal people cried when sad, but she didn't realize how many tears would assault her skin.   
It hurt to see him so lost. His fingers dug into,wild blonde locks as he watched it all burn to the ground. Pictures of his father and mother shriveled as flames ate viciously at their corners, and fine china cracked and grayed when the heat became too much for its glaze. The screen read "traitors' homes destroyed as countermeasure " and the image switched to her own home already decimated with fire and ash. She knew that this would happen but the air still was forced from lungs as she looked over the destruction of the place she had killed to win.  
Her heart was broken, but nothing could be done about it. He whispered, "Follow me, and I'll be your home."   
She kissed his wet cheek, his burning forehead, and his sweat soaked hair. "And in return, I'll be yours to fall back on." She held him as they fell apart.   
Together they watched what once was theirs crumble and burn, and even with the pain from the loss, she was happy she followed him, because the thought of him crying over her hurts more than losing a home, memories, and everything she worked to achieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my cake, and I love cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are approved. Prompts for this verse also welcome. Like it or hate it your feedback is welcome.


End file.
